


Colors

by brianaa_c



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - The 100 (TV) Fusion, Cheating, F/M, Fist Fights, Jealousy, Obsession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brianaa_c/pseuds/brianaa_c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 100 high school AU. Clarke is the popular cheerleader. Bellamy is the broody senior. Octavia doesn't claim him as blood and Raven is as sassy as ever. A school sociology project quickly forces an unlikely partnership. The more they find out about each other, the closer they get. Clarke's morals quickly change the deeper she gets with Bellamy, and before she knows it, there's a fist fight in the middle of the gym, ending in a visit to the hospital and more than one broken heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I really really hope you all like this! I've had this story in my head for quite some time, and I'm finally putting it down on something tangible. I hope you all don't think this will be some type of cutesy cliche popular-girl-meets-bad-boy because while it is, it totally isn't, if that makes sense lol. I hope you enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue is the color of the sky and sea. Associated with depth and stability. Symbolizes trust, loyalty, wisdom, confidence, intelligence, faith, truth, and heaven. Considered beneficial to the mind and body. Produces a calming effect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This is a new idea for me, I've never written a High School AU so bare with me! I plan on updating every 1-2 weeks during the duration of this story. I hope you all enjoy!

Clarke has always been annoyed with the tapping of pencils. Ever since she could remember, it had always rankled her.

She glances up at the clock in the front of the classroom, and it read 11:17. She groaned, closing her eyes as she rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand. It was only the second day of junior year, and she was already done with it. _Only seventeen more minutes of class._

The tapping began again, and she grit her teeth, spinning around in her chair. “Can you stop?”

The class glanced at her briefly before following her line of sight. Bellamy Blake sat in the back corner of the classroom, four rows behind and two columns over from Clarke. He looked up, his brown eyes fixating on hers. He let the pencil drop from his hand, letting it roll around on the desk before coming to a stop. Clarke rolled her eyes, turning back to the front of the class, ignoring the confused whispers from her classmates.

“As I was saying,” Mr. Abraham said with a raised eyebrow, glaring at Clarke. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, pretending not to notice her teacher’s aggravation. “You’re going to work in pairs this semester. From now until winter break, you and your partner will be spending a minimum of two hours together per day. You will keep a journal with you, and you will write down at least three behavioral traits you observe your partner doing per day. It could be smiling, laughing, crying, frowning… Anything that they do, really.”

Clarke puts her elbows on her desk, leaning forward to look across the room at Finn Collins. She catches his eye, and he gives her an easy smile, making her stomach flip. Of course she would work with him. He was her boyfriend, after all. It would be no problem spending time with him.

“Now we get to the fun part!” Mr. Abraham says with a smile, clasping his hands together in front of his waist. “You get to draw names for partners.”

The class vocalizes their distaste as Clarke sits back in her chair, deflated. She was in a senior level class, and Finn was the only one she knew. She didn’t want to have to work with some random.

Mr. Abraham divided the room in half to draw names, and Clarke’s heart fluttered with hope when she noticed Finn was on the other side. There was a chance.

The teacher made each student on the other side write down their name on a small sheet of paper before folding it and placing it in some old Yankee’s baseball cap. He gave it to a guy on Clarke’s side, and they began to read out the names of partners.

When it finally got to Clarke, she was confident. There were only four people left to choose from, and Finn was one of them. _25% chance._

She closed her eyes as she stuck her hand in the hat, begging to get lucky and draw Finn’s name. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and unfolded the paper.

She clenched her jaw. “Bellamy Blake.”

Both Finn and Clarke’s gaze cut to him, and Bellamy glanced at Clarke. His gaze was hard, and she was the first to look away.

Clarke shoved the baseball cap to the boy with red hair and braces next to her, and if it were any circumstances, she would have been thrilled that he drew Finn’s name instead of the two senior girls at the end of the line. She could feel Bellamy’s gaze on her, and she looked anywhere but at him.

When the bell finally rang, she made a beeline for Bellamy, completely ignoring Finn’s bewildered look as she walked past him. She dropped her book bag on Bellamy’s desk, making him look up at her as she put her hands on her hips.

“The two hours we spend together will be after I have my cheer practices. I don’t want anyone seeing us. I don’t want anyone knowing-”

“Okay,” He says with an easy shrug of his shoulders, slinging his bag over a broad shoulder. His voice was deep and had a slight twang to it, and it took her aback. He scooted past her before she could say anything else, leaving her gobsmacked.

“Okay, I guess,” She said to herself, jumping when Finn placed a hand on the small of her back.

“Easy,” He laughed, guiding her out of the classroom. “It’s just a project. It’ll be okay.”

Clarke frowned as he took her hand as they entered the hallway. Easy for him to say. Bellamy wasn’t _his_ partner.

* * *

 Clarke slammed her lunch tray down on the table just outside of the cafeteria on the quad, making her friends jump in their seats.

“Your brother is my sociology partner,” She says to Octavia.

“He’s _not_ my brother,” Octavia, instantly knowing who she’s talking about, bites defensively, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.

“Half-brother, whatever,” Raven jokes, taking a bite of the pizza she has on her plate. “It’s basically the same thing.”

“It’s _not_ the same thing!” Octavia complains, turning to Clarke. “Clarke, tell her it’s not the same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing,” She says in a monotone voice, giving Raven a small smile. Raven laughs, and Octavia rolls her eyes.

“Whatever. I hate you both,” She says, crossing her arms over her cheerleading uniform. Octavia was a sophomore, and like Clarke, she was also on the cheerleading team. Raven, on the other hand, quit sports altogether when she lost the feeling in her left leg, confining her to a brace for probably the rest of her life.

“I mean, he does kind of look like you,” Raven says, glancing across the lawn where the outcasts, called the delinquents, usually sat. “He’s kind of hot, too. I mean, if you’re into the bad boy vibe.”

“Ew. _Please_ don’t call him hot,” Octavia sticks her tongue out, but Clarke follows Raven’s gaze.

Bellamy is sitting in the grass with people she presumes are his friends. She recognizes Murphy from her calculus class, and Miller, a track runner. Jasper and Monty, two complete stoners from her grade, are also with him. His hair is curly and unruly, sitting just below his eyebrows, as if he hasn’t had a haircut in months. He seems to be somewhat muscular, the leather of his jacket tight around his arms and chest. His skin is tanned and freckles pepper his face, over his nose and on his cheeks. A scar runs from the corner of his lip up almost to his nose. His face is stone and his expression is hard, and Clarke gets the feeling that he doesn’t smile much.

“Well, he’s my class partner,” Clarke sighs, turning back to her friends. “Any tips, O?”

“Don’t let him kill your mom,” She says with a sarcastic smile before she took a bite of her turkey sandwich, and the table instantly gets quiet.

Clarke remembers the story. When Octavia was thirteen and in seventh grade, Bellamy got into a fight his freshman year of high school. Bellamy’s dad wasn’t able to pick him up from school, so their mother offered to. She got into a car wreck on the way, and it killed her instantly. If she remembered Octavia’s story correctly, her mom and Bellamy’s father divorced when they realized that he was not Octavia’s father, when she was barely one. Her mom remarried, but Bellamy’s dad never did.

“Octavia, I didn’t mean to-” Clarke began to apologize, but Octavia lifted a hand waving it in the air.

“Yeah, yeah. I was just joking, making light of it. You know that.”

Raven reaches under the table, patting her friend comfortingly on the knee. Although it was three years ago, she knew the death of her mom still bothered Octavia, even if she wanted to pretend like it didn’t.

Clarke is relieved when she sees Lincoln and Wick walk over to their table, anxious to move the conversation to a different subject.

“How’s my favorite girl?” Lincoln greets, kissing Octavia on the cheek before sitting down beside her, making her blush and giggle like a little girl. Lincoln was a senior, but was by far the most gentleman-like guy any of them have ever met.

Raven tilts her head for Wick to follow Lincoln and kiss her cheek as well, but he looks at her funny as he sits down. “What are you doing, Reyes?”

Clarke stifles a laugh as Raven turns red.

“You’re such a loser, Wick.”

“That’s why you love me, babe.” Wick says with a wink. She rolls her eyes, but reaches up to ruffle his blond hair.

“Why is Miller over there with those losers?” Wick scoffs, and Octavia raises her hands in the air.

“ _Finally,_ someone agrees with me!”

Lincoln ignores his girlfriend, frowning at his friend. “He’s just making new friends. Leave him alone, man.”

“Calm down, hippy-dippy,” Wick laughs, earning snickers from his friends and a glare from Lincoln. “I’m not gonna say anything. I was just wondering why he finds the appeal of two stoners, a convict and math nerd.”

Clarke chokes on her salad. “Oh my god, a convict? I could die!”

Everyone’s eyes shoot to Clarke, and Octavia rolls her eyes. “He was arrested for trespassing and vandalism of the school, not for being a serial killer.”

“I take it we missed something?” Lincoln asks.

“He’s Clarke’s partner for sociology,” Raven fills him in. “And she gets to spend _alllllll_ day with him for the _rest_ of the semester.”

“Shut up,” Clarke snaps, ignoring the teasing sing-song tone of her friend. “It’s only two hours a day.”

“Finn won’t be too happy about that,” Lincoln says mid-chew. Octavia scrunches her nose at him, practically appalled at his table manners.

Clarke sighs. “He doesn’t care, I don’t think. Especially now that he’s so focused on football, he barely even notices me now.”

An uncomfortable silence sets over the table. No one speaks up, because in a way, what she said was true. Sure, Finn was an attentive boyfriend, but it was always so easy for him to prioritize everything before her. She understood things like school and family, but when it came to him going to a party without her instead of taking her out on a date, she started to feel a bit lonely.

“Don’t look now,” says Wick, hooking an arm around Raven’s shoulder, using the other hand to point behind Clarke. “But the rebel king is about to grace us with his presence.”

Her stomach dropped and Clarke turned in her seat, and sure enough, Bellamy was walking their way. He ran a large hand through his black hair as he looked directly at her, and she found herself having to look anywhere but his eyes under his intense gaze.

Bellamy was definitely a guy who walked with a purpose. Although he may not have many friends, he always seemed so confident and sure of himself. Clarke found herself envious. She wished she could always feel as validated as he probably did.

When he reached them, he pulled out the chair next to Clarke, earning uneasy stares from the group.

“Octavia,” He greeted in his deep voice, an edge to it. She raised an eyebrow and looked away, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Can I help you?” Clarke asked, turning to face him, daring herself to look him straight in the eye, no matter how difficult it proved to be.

“Where are we going to be… _hanging out,_ or whatever.” The words seem almost painful for him to get out, but his gaze never falters.

“My house. There’s no way we’re going out in public together.” Clarke pulls out a piece of paper from her bag and a pen, scribbling her address on it, sliding it over to him. He takes it and folds it before shoving it in his pocket.

“You know, Princess,” Bellamy starts, leaning in just slightly. “You’re with me right now, and you are, in fact, in public.”

Clarke shoves him out of the seat next to her, anger flaring in her chest. “You _know_ what I mean,” she growls at him. “Just come over at five. I’ll be done with cheer practice by then.”

Without a word, Bellamy retreats, and Raven laughs to break the awkward silence. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes when everyone glares at her. “It’s just too funny. He actually called her _princess._ That’s way nicer that what his friends call her.”

Clarke’s cheeks flame red. “Shut _up,_ Raven!”

* * *

 

It’s 5 p.m., and Clarke is way more nervous than she thought she would be.

Luckily, her mom was in a last-minute call at the hospital and Clarke wouldn’t have to explain why some senior with a motorcycle and a leather jacket was coming over before dinner.

“It’s a heart transplant, someone is getting a chance at a longer life! I’ll be back in the morning; I have to go!” Her mom said. And she went.

The doorbell rang, and Clarke jumped from her spot on the couch in the living room. She smoothed her hair and her pleated skirt as she made her way to the door. She took a deep breath before opening the heavy wooden door. As expected, Bellamy was on the other side.

He just nods at her, not saying a word. She looks past him, eyeing the shiny black motorcycle parked out in her driveway.

“You better hope the neighbors don’t see that. I’ll never hear the end of it from my mother,” Clarke tells him, stepping aside to let him in.

Bellamy ignores her, looking around as she guides him back to the living room. “Big house…” He notes, his voice distant as he shrugs off his leather jacket, revealing a simple tan tee as he hangs his jacket on the coat rack in the hall. He sits down on the leather couch next to her, keeping an appropriate distance between them.

Clarke waves a hand in the air by her head, as if to dismiss his comment. “So, what do you want to do?” She checks her watch. “We have one hour and fifty-eight minutes left.”

Bellamy motions to his backpack at his feet. “I was thinking we could just do homework, or whatever.”

“ _You_ want to do homework? Since when do bad boys do their homework?” Clarke scrunches her nose at him, and Bellamy eyes her.

“What else did you have in mind?” He asks, making a point to ignore her second question.

“I dunno…” Clarke trails off, getting up to walk to perimeter of the room. She can feel Bellamy’s eyes following her. “We could talk?” She offers, her fingers tracing the stone at the top of the fireplace, glancing back at him.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Bellamy says, sitting back into the couch. “What do you want to talk about?”

Clarke turns her body to face him, leaning up against the wall. “Why did you call me princess earlier?”

Finally, Bellamy is the one to look away from her, and it’s a small victory. For once, _her_ gaze is too much to handle.

He finally shrugs. “I mean, you have everything you want. Just figured that it makes sense, calling you Princess.”

Clarke pushes herself off the wall, walking back to the couch. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” He starts, pausing to watch her sit down next to him, closer than he anticipated. “You have the great friends, the star football player as a boyfriend, and you’re the head cheerleader, or whatever. Seems like you have it made.”

“He’s _not_ the star football player,” Clarke says with a roll of her eyes, speaking of Finn as she stretches her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. She smoothes her cheerleading skirt out, picking a blonde hair from the blue fabric before tossing it aside. “He’s not that good.”

Bellamy chuckles as he crosses his arms and leans back into the couch, but it’s flat and she can tell it’s forced. She looks back at him, and she catches him looking at her legs from the corner of his eye. He quickly adverts his gaze as she smiles.

“You have to had done sports, Bellamy,” She says, and she likes his name and the way it just rolls off the tongue. “There’s no way you get _those_ muscles from vandalizing schools.”

“I have muscles?” He chuckles, this time for real, and he’s almost proud of herself for making him smile. She’s never seen his smile before, and it sure was a nice one.

“Let me guess,” Clarke says coyly, putting her finger on her chin, making a big show of her thinking. “Your shoulders are broad enough for swimming, but your waist isn’t small enough. Your arms are defined for being a wide receiver or quarterback, but I can’t picture you on a football team. Your calves are pretty massive, so I’m going to have to go soccer. Soccer or track.”

“I played soccer until sophomore year.” Bellamy glances down at his skinny jean-clad legs, as if expecting his own calves. “You’re right. That was something.”

“What changed?” She couldn’t help but ask. She realized her mistake as soon as she said it. “You don’t have to answer me, Octavia told me-”

“Let’s just do homework,” Bellamy closes up again quickly, his natural frown setting back in as he reaches for his backpack. Clarke sighs, reaching to the table to grab her bag.

* * *

 August rolls into September and September fades to October. Bellamy goes to one of the football games Clarke cheers at, using the excuse of their school project to watch her. They spend lunch together every once in awhile, and Clarke tries to ignore the glares and glances from her friends, focusing on whatever Bellamy was talking about, which was usually his motorcycle that he is way too proud to say he fixed up from scratch. She learns he has a job down at the local diner, working full time as a bus boy to help his dad pay rent, who’s currently in between jobs. She tells him that although she and Finn have been dating since last year, she knows she doesn't love him. They actually become somewhat friendly, despite Finn’s jeers every time he sees the two of them together.

Bellamy always found Clarke attractive, even when she first came to Arkadia High School. Although he never particularly liked her, especially because she was friends with Octavia, he found himself growing fond of her. He was interested in what she had to say, and he was keen of her laugh. He missed her when she wasn’t in class, and he was happy when he would watch her face light up with joy, usually when she talked about cheerleading or biology.

“I didn’t know you wanted to be a doctor,” He says one night after she tells him her dreams she has planned to tackle after college, poking her knee with his pencil as they sit on their bed, writing an essay for European history as she writes her biology lab report.

“My mom is a surgeon, and I’ve always had the itch to help people. I wanted to be a vet originally, but I wouldn't be able to tell people I had to put their pets down,” she says with a small smile, as if she's shy about her ambitions, and it warms his heart. “That’s where she is now. She usually gets called in during the night, mostly for emergency surgeries. They take awhile.”

Clarke’s usual curled hair is left natural, the waves falling over her shoulder and down her back, baby hairs tickling her forehead. Her face was makeup-free, and she was in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. Bellamy was charmed that she was so comfortable around him. “What do you want to be?” She asks. “You graduate this spring. Any plans for college?”

Bellamy shrugs, and Clarke learned it’s a habit when he’s uncomfortable. “Probably the army.”

“You want to be a soldier?”

“No. But I don’t have the grades for college, and I certainty can’t pay for it.” Clarke feels a bit sad for him as she notices the small tear on his red flannel by his collar, and she watches him push the glasses he rarely wears up his nose. Bellamy told her briefly about how hard things are economically for he and his dad, but he never really went into detail. “It’s just the best choice for me right now.”

There’s a finality to his voice, so Clarke lets the conversation die as she turns her attention back to her homework.

“Alright, I’m going to go cross-eyed if I have to read one more paragraph of this stupid lab,” Clarke says after a couple minutes, closing her notebook, tossing it to the edge of her bed. Bellamy laughs silently beside her, looking up from his essay to glance at her. She smiles, noticing a gleam in his eye she never quite noticed before.

“What?” He asks her when he catches her staring too long, and she feels a blush cross her cheeks.

“Nothing," Clarke says with a coy smile, gathering her hair behind her neck, as if to tie it up, before she lets it fall back down. "Do you want to watch a movie to pass time?”

Bellamy glances at the clock warily. “It’s almost midnight. There's no time we need to pass, and I should probably leave pretty soon, it's getting late.”

Clarke scoffs. “It’s Friday. Are you telling me you never stayed out past midnight before?” She places her index finger on her chin, pretending to think. "Last time I checked, I don't think criminals have curfews."

He raises an eyebrow at her playfully. He was glad she wasn't scared of his past. Just a misunderstanding and a bad choice of judgement in friends led to his arrest, and he was relieved she understood and even made light of the situation. “Fine. Go pick a movie.”

She grins in satisfaction as she slides off the bed, walking over to the TV stand across the room. She plugs in her computer and goes to Netflix, instantly searching out her favorite movie.

“The Breakfast Club?” He laughs, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“Don’t start complaining. You let me pick the movie. It’s a classic,” she defends herself as she climbs back onto her side of the bed. She reaches over to turn off the lights as the movie begins.

She glances over at Bellamy, studying him. His sharp jawline is set, his arms crossed defensively and probably a bit habitually over his chest. He has Octavia's curved nose and full lips, and she wonders if they ever talked after their mother died.

Her gaze trails up to his eyes. The usual light brown she grew fond of was black in the dark, the movie reflecting off the white in his eyes.

“I like you, you know,” Clarke states as detention in the movie starts. Bellamy abandoned all the attention he had on the TV in front of him to look at her. If she didn't know any better, she would say he's enjoying it.

“You like me?”

“Yeah,” She says simply, like it’s no big deal, even though they both know it is. “You’re nice. You listen to me. You’re pretty hot, too.” Bellamy looks down, a smile threatening to ruin his bad boy exterior he works so hard on perfecting.

"Don't worry," Clarke says, waving a hand in the air as if trying to get rid of a stench. "You don't have to feel the same. I pride myself and being honest and up-front with people, and I just wanted to let you know."

Bellamy chuckles, shaking his head teasingly at her. "You aren't so bad yourself, Princess."

She smiles to herself, laying her head on his shoulder. He adjusts himself to allow her to be more comfortable, scooting closer.

Clarke must have dozed off, because the next thing she knows, the credits are rolling and Bellamy is gently shaking her awake.

“I should probably get going,” he whispers softly, leaning in to talk to her ear.

She lifts her head from his shoulder to glance at the clock, reading 1:46 am.

Bellamy makes a move to get up, but Clarke grabs his elbow. “Can you stay?”

He looks at her torn, slightly uncomfortable but also somewhat longing. He picks up his backpack from the bed, slinging it over his shoulder. “Clarke, I don’t know…”

“Please?” She usually isn’t this needy, but she always hated being alone in this house, especially ever since her father died. “I can sleep on the couch or something, I don’t care. I just don’t like being home alone when my mom is at work… This house is creepy.”

He looks at her for a long moment, so long she’s afraid he’s going to reject her again. But he finally drops his backpack onto the floor and settles back onto the bed, much to her delight and relief.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“I do. I’ll be right back.”

When she returned, she had one of her father’s old t-shirts and sweatpants in her hands, folded neatly, untouched for the past year. “They’re my father’s,” she explained, handing the articles of clothing to him. “The bathroom is just down the hall if you want to change.”

When Bellamy came back to her room a couple minutes later and saw her making a bed with blankets on the small couch opposite of her bed, he put a hand on her elbow to stop her.

“You can sleep in your bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“You won’t _fit_ on the couch,” she teases him, gesturing to his tall body. “Just sleep on the bed. It’s big enough for both of us.”

 Clarke blushed as she watched Bellamy move, throwing back the covers on her bed. She liked the way his shoulder shifted and muscles slid under his skin every time he made a movement. His brown, freckled skin was smooth and clear against the light blue of the t-shirt, and she charmed to learn back in September his dad was from the Philippines. 

They climb into bed, staying on their respective sides as she reaches up to turn off the light.

"He's a loser, you know."

Clarke giggles into her hand, and she rolls his eyes at his sudden outburst. When they were having lunch together earlier that day, she told him about how Finn blew her off to hang out with some girl named Danielle. Clarke knew he liked Danielle - she watched the way Finn looked at her. "He means well."

She feels Bellamy sigh next to her. "If that's what you tell yourself to stay with him." 

She bites her lip, and she supposes he's right. Sure, she liked Finn. He was there for her when her dad died, and he was supportive of everything she did. He was just so... _bland_. All he wanted to talk about was football or what the guys did last weekend at some house party. She wanted adventure and passion. 

“Want to talk about it?” He says suddenly, once the room is filled with darkness.

“What?”

“Your dad… Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is softer the second time he asks. Clarke finds herself turning towards him, and by the shift in sheets under him, he turns on his side also.

“He worked for the government way before I was born. He was always dealing with top-secret documents and things. I never really understood what he did,” Clarke says, hugging the duvet tighter around her. “Apparently, he threatened to release some documents. I never knew what they were about, just about the safety of the country. Someone just decided to shoot him, I guess. I’m not sure what happened. It was a year ago and I’m still not sure.”

There’s silence between them, and Clarke is nervous she scared him off.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. Clarke hears the rustle of sheets and notices he shifted closer. “I know how you feel, losing a parent… I’m sorry, Clarke.”

She shrugs. “Do _you_ want to talk about it?”

He instantly knows what she’s talking about. “No,” he says, rolling over onto his back. "Absolutely not."

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

“Clarke,” His voice his harsh, his tone a dark warning her not to say anything further. She shifts onto her back as well, clasping her hands over her stomach. She probably went too far with him.

"Do you trust me?" She asks him, her voice as light as possible, trying to make this easier for him.

He's silent for a minute. "Yes."

"You can tell me, Bellamy."

Clarke hears him take a deep breath, and watches the shadow of his hand reach up to scrub his face with his palm. "I was only fifteen. I remember I got in a fight with some sophomore. He said something about how my mom was some type of whore. We do live in Virginia, after all, so I guess things here are pretty conservative..." Bellamy shakes his head, as if trying to remove the memory from his mind. "Anyway, I lost my temper and punched him. At the time, my dad had a job and couldn't leave with the principal called him to pick me up. My mom offered to do it, and she was killed in a car accident on the way to school."

Although she's heard the story many times before, from Octavia, her heart still ached for them. "Bellamy, I'm sorry..."

"And now my own sister won't even look at me," He laughs incredulously. "She acts like we aren't even related. We used to be so close growing up, when I would spend the weekend at my mom's. Octavia's father would always take us out to some fancy restaurant, giving me a taste of a 'better life' as he likes to say," Bellamy says, using air quotes. "Now he won't acknowledge me either."

Clarke reaches out, grabbing his arm gingerly. She smooths her thumb over the ridge of his bicep, and he takes a deep, shaky breath. 

"So that's what happened." Silence falls between them once more.

She lays awake, so long thirty-five minutes go buy and she’s sure he’s asleep.

“Bellamy?” She asks quietly, the quiet of the room making it feel as if she's screaming.

“Hmm?” He sounds to be half-asleep, but she turns towards him again.

“Thank you,” She says, reaching out to brush his arm with his fingers. He shifts again, his head turning towards her. “For telling me about what happened to your mom, I mean. And staying with me here tonight. It means a lot. I usually have someone stay over, like Raven or...” Clarke trails off, and they both know who she was about to say.  _Finn._

“Anytime, Princess.”

She’s sure he’s falling asleep again, but she feels driven by an outer force as she leans in close to his face. Her eyes have long adjusted to the dark, and she sees his are closed, his mouth parted just slightly as he breathes calmly. Hesitantly, she leans in, pressing her lips to his. When she pulls away, his eyes are open.

He says nothing, but she knows he wants to ask everything. “Clarke, I-”

Clarke leans in again, and there’s no objection from him as she kisses him once more. Bellamy’s hand goes to her neck, holding her almost delicately in place as he kisses her back. Her fingers wrap around his wrist, scooting closer to his body. When she goes to take a breath, Bellamy uses it as his chance to move his lips to her jaw, and then lower, to her neck. She melts under his touch, her body heated and her skin hot. His fingers go to the collar of her shirt, pulling it lightly to kiss her collarbone. Clarke is lit on fire as he sucks on her skin, her hands going to his hair, letting out a small gasp.

He brings his lips back to hers, and they’re hungrier this time. His tongue explores her mouth as she shivers against him, pulling on his hair lightly. He lets out a quiet groan, and Clarke feels it against her chest. He pulls her closer, a hand going to her hip, holding her close to him. She feels wanted and cherished as his hands move gently over her body. Something she never felt with Finn.

She quickly pushes out the thought of her boyfriend from her mind. She’s either too tired or too turned on to care, but all that matters is Bellamy and the way he’s kissing her.

Clarke’s hands go to the hem of the blue shirt, pulling it up and over his head. Bellamy takes it from her and tosses it to the foot of the bed, and Clarke's heart flutters. She tentatively reaches a brave hand out, touching his chest lightly. She relishes in the ridges and plains of his muscles as she runs her hand across his chest, and he closes his eyes as her fingers grip his shoulder.

Her lips go to his neck, trailing lower and lower. Her pace agonizingly slow as she pulls his head back by his hair, taking charge by kissing down the column of his throat. His heart is hammering in his chest and he’s breathing deeply, and she’s charmed. _He just might like her back._

Her head dips beneath the covers, kissing further down his chest and onto his hard stomach. Bellamy is almost completely still, but she can still hear his ragged breathing, becoming more uneven the lower she gets.

 _“Shit,”_ He curses when she hooks her index finger under the sweatpants he’s wearing and brushes his hip bone, making him flinch. He grabs her arm and pulls her back up above the covers. “We shouldn’t go any further, Clarke.”

“But-”

“It’s not fair to him,” Bellamy says, and although he doesn't say any names, she knows exactly who's he's talking about. She supposes he’s right. Sure, he wasn’t the perfect boyfriend, but he never cheated on her. He loved her, even if it was a bit flawed in priorities and it wasn't reciprocated.

Bellamy leans in to kiss Clarke’s cheek, and he can feel the race of her pulse under his touch on her neck. “We should probably just sleep.”

So they do, and when she wakes up, the other half of her bed is made to perfection, as if he was never even there.


	2. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traditionally associated with greed, jealousy, and lust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that I plan on updating this story every 1-2 weeks, for however long it becomes. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“Looks like Finny-boy got a bit frisky with you last night, huh?”

Clarke’s eyes go wide at Raven’s words as everyone, including Finn, glance at her, all eyes going straight to the hickey on her neck, left last night by Bellamy.

“Is that a hickey?” Finn asks, in disbelief as he leans closer. “I certainty didn’t do that.”

“I burnt myself on my curling iron,” Clarke covered smoothly, and she’s surprised at how well she just lied. “Ever since I cut my hair I can never hold the hot tool just right.”

It seems to be enough for the group, and she breathes in relief as they go back to their own conversations. They’re at the local diner, Dropship, for a late breakfast. Clarke dragged them here around eleven, saying something about how they all needed to spend more time together. 

Clarke looked around her group of friends shoved in the back corner booth, finding out two years ago when they celebrated Wick's birthday that it was the only one big enough for them all.

She smiled when her gaze landed on Octavia and Lincoln. They were in the center of the curved seat, his arm around her as he whispers in her ear. Clarke watched her shove him away and laugh at whatever he had to say. She turned her attention to Finn next to her, inspecting his pancakes before drenching them in syrup. 

Clarke sighed. She wish she had what Octavia had with Lincoln. Finn was nice, but he never went the extra mile for her in the same way Lincoln did for Octavia. He never pulled her chair out for her, or held the door open, or even blessed her when she sneezed. He never held her hand or put her arm around her unless she was on the brink of a breakdown, and he certainly never complimented her.

"I'm telling you, Raven. We need you back on the track team." Clarke tuned herself back into her friends' conversation just in time to see Raven roll her eyes at Miller.

"Any idea on where to get me a new back?" Raven snapped, but she said it with a teasing smile, earning laughs. She was never one to accept pity, especially about her paralysis. She grew to accept it as a part of her, and she was happy her friends still treated her very much the same.

"You guys are all coming to my party this Saturday, right?" Harper pipes up amidst the laughter. "It's Halloween, and I want it to be special, especially since some of us are seniors," she continues, looking to Finn and Miller.

"Wouldn't miss it, H," Octavia says with a smile, speaking for the group. 

Clarke takes a sip of her water before picking up her fork, pushing around the hash browns on her plate. She had some things on her mind, other than parties and boyfriends. 

"Don't look now, Clarke, but your boy-toy works here."

Clarke glanced up embarrassingly fast, following Wick's gaze to across the small diner. There he was, carrying around a bin for plates and dishes, cleaning off an empty table. His Dropship black shirt was tight around his shoulders, and a red apron was tied around his waist.

Finn rolls his eyes. "Please. He's just some lowly busser." 

"Not all of us can come from fortunate families, Finn. Some people have to work for what they earn." Annoyance was bubbling in Clarke's chest, and she snapped at him before she even really knew what she was saying.

The group stared at her, but it was Octavia who spoke up. "Since when are you so close with him?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't even want to be seen in public with him."

"And now you're having lunch with him and spending more than the sociology assignment calls for?" Finn scoffs. "What, do you like him now?"

Clarke's cheeks are red as anger fills her body. Without a second thought, she places her hands on the table in front of her, pushing herself up. She walks over to Bellamy while Finn calls her name.

"Hey, stranger," she says to him, placing her hand on the table he's bussing. Bellamy's eyes go to her hand, following her arm up to her shoulder until finally landing on her face. "Why didn't you wake me when you left?"

Bellamy put the bin down on the table, wiping his hands on the apron around his waist. "I didn't want to. It was early." He goes back to picking up the glasses from the table, placing them in the bin, careful not to break the glass. "Nice mark, by the way."

Clarke blushes. "You're the reason I have it."

He looks at her again, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks past her, eyeing her friends. "Tough crowd."

She follows his gaze, turning back to face her friends. They're all staring at her except Lincoln, who's busy eating his omelet, and Finn, who's too busy shooting daggers at Bellamy to even notice her.

"They're alright," she shrugs. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something. What are you doing next Saturday night?"

"Working, probably."

"Well request off," Clarke says with a smile. "We're going to a party."

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her, picking up the bin full of dishes, moving to the next table. Clarke follows. "As your date? What about Finn?"

Clarke rolls her eyes. "He'll get over it. He's annoying me, anyways. And he's rude."

Bellamy laughs, and after some convincing, he finally agrees to go with her to Harper's party. She returns to her seat, satisfied. "We're going together."

Finn glares at her, shoving her plate forward to force her to focus on him. "You're joking, right?"

"Maybe next time," she starts, grabbing her plate back, stabbing her hash browns with her fork. "You won't be such a dick, and I won't have to ask someone else."

He sits back in his seat, deflated as the rest of the group talks on about costumes and body paint. Clarke pretends to be looking around the diner, casually eyeing Bellamy. He finally notices, and she adverts her gaze quickly, trying her hardest to suppress her smile. It was good to flirt again.

* * *

"For the last time, you look _fine,_ Octavia." Raven was sitting on Harper's bed with Clarke, both watching Octavia pick and pry at her halloween costume. The party was already in full swing downstairs, and the girls were already two shots in before they even stepped foot out of Harper's room.

"I don't want to actually  _look_ like a maid," Octavia huffed, pulling up the short black and white skirt even higher on her hips. "I want to look like those rich housewives on those reality TV shows who just  _dress_ like one for their husbands and stuff."

"Well, Lincoln will enjoy it. Isn't that all you want?" Clarke asks, straightening the headband on her head that was attached to her halo. She and Raven decided to do a joint costume, opting to be the angel to Raven's devil. She chose a short white shift dress with matching heels as Raven wore a red shiny catsuit, hugging her perfect body flawlessly.

Octavia sighed, placing the lace headpiece over her hair. "You're right."

"So," Raven said, turning to Clarke, her red lips pulled up in a smirk. "When's your boy-toy getting here?"

"He's not my 'boy-toy'," Clarke giggles, shaking her head. "He said he'll be here soon."

"You don't like him, do you?" Octavia hiccuped cautiously, sitting in front of Clarke to begin her makeup. "Because I know I don't claim him in any relation to me, but that's still pretty weird."

"I don't like him," Clarke lied easily. "He's just here because he's a friend, and Finn brought Danielle."

Octavia held Clarke's face still as she applied glittery eyeshadow, the white sparkles almost matching her pale skin. "Do you think they're hooking up?" Raven asks, shrugging when Octavia shoots her a death glare.

"Probably," Clarke murmurs as best she can as Octavia paints a light pink lipstick on her lips. 

It was no secret that Finn was a one-woman man. He usually made it clear to all of the girls in his class. But he had a short fuse, and Clarke literally asked another guy to be her date to a party right in front of him. There's no telling what Finn would do.

"All done," Octavia says with a smile, grabbing the hand mirror and thrusting it in front of Clarke.

She  _did_ look like an angel. Her lips were pale and glitter was dusted heavily over her eyes and cheekbones, making her look, for a lack of a better word, angelic.

"Can we go downstairs now?" Raven asks impatiently, the whine in her voice obvious. "I'm bored and all I really want to do right now is a keg stand and take body shots off of Wick's-"

"Okay!" Octavia interrupts with a smile, eyes wide at Raven. Clarke snickers into her hand as her friends lead her downstairs.

Clarke feels the music pulse through her before anything, some rap song she never heard before as people dance in the spacious living room.

"I'm gonna find Lincoln," Octavia shouts over the music, and Raven says something about Wick arriving, slinking away, leaving Clarke alone. She scans the room, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress as she looks for Bellamy. 

Finally, she spots him in the corner near the beer pong table, talking with who looks to be Jasper and Monty. Clarke feels a grin curl on her lips, sliding her way through people drinking and grinding to get to them.

Clarke sneaks up behind him, wrapping an arm around his stomach, putting her mouth near his ear. "Hey."

Bellamy jumps, stepping out of her embrace as he turns to look at her. "An angel?" He laughs, flicking the fluffy halo balancing on a headband and wire above Clarke's head. She bats her eyes innocently at him, and he gives her an easy smile. "You look beautiful."

"And what are you supposed to be?" She asks him, raising an eyebrow at his dark green button under a brown leather jacket. Her balance is a bit fuzzy currently, so she leans on the table next to her.

"I'm Whitey Bulger," Bellamy says as if offended she didn't already know, doing a little spin for her, making her laugh. "The mob boss of all mob bosses."

Clarke raised her eyebrows in amusement, turning her attention to the other two. "Who are you two supposed to be?"

"Stoners," Jasper says with a smirk, and Monty giggles. They both had sunglasses over their eyes and baggy clothes on their thin frames.

"Do you want a drink?" Bellamy asks her, offering his cup, actively moving the conversation back to him. Clarke smiles coyly.

She puts a hand up, shaking her head. "I get my own drinks, thank you. Come with me."

Clarke guides him to the kitchen by a hand, and she's relieved only a couple of sophomores are present who look to be on their way back to the living room. She goes to the cabinet over the stove and pulls out a green bottle of expensive vodka, shrugging when Bellamy eyes her. "Harper's mom keeps all the good stuff above the stove."

She gathers two shot glasses, rinsing them out with water before placing them in front of Bellamy. She fills them to the brim, much to his amusement. 

"Cheers," she says with a smirk, raising her shot glass. He clinks their glasses together before tossing it back, and it burns Clarke's throat on the way down. Bellamy's gaze is intense on her as he sets his shot glass back down on the marble counter.

"How about we have tequila?" Clarke offers, a mischievous glint in her eye. She hasn't seen Finn yet, and she wants to have a little fun. With his agreement, she digs salt out of the pantry and cut up limes from the fridge. She pours the tequila in her shot glass before sprinkling salt on the top of her hand. He watches her as she swallows her shot, and he raises the lime to her mouth, watching her suck. Bellamy repeats her actions, and Clarke takes another shot.

"Your turn again," she tells him, jumping to sit on the counter next to him. His hand goes to her knee, steadying her as she begins to giggle. He pours his shot and goes to grab the salt, but Clarke swipes it before he can get his hands on it. 

"What are you doing?" He asks in amusement, watching her carefully as she sticks her index finger in her mouth, getting it wet before dabbing a line on her neck. She lightly pours the salt over her damp skin, disregarding the grains that bounce off her skin and fall onto her dress, and Bellamy's gaze cuts back to her eyes. She reaches out and hooks a finger under his shirt collar, pulling him between her legs. 

He eyes her hesitantly, his hand going up to her neck, tilting her head back. Clarke's pulse is racing and her skin is on fire when she feels his breath on her skin. She stifles the moan on her lips when his tongue swipes up her neck, slow and sexual. He goes to pull away to take the shot, but Clarke grabs his face, guiding him up.

They're kissing, and Bellamy's hands are instantly on her thighs. She moans into his mouth and he takes advantage of it, his hand in her hair, pulling her head back as he explores her mouth with his tongue. If she didn't know any better, she would think he was waiting for this moment all night. Her head is swimming as his bold hands slide under her dress, reaching around to grab a handful of her ass, pulling her closer to him on the counter. Clearly, alcohol is his liquid courage.

His hands leave fire on her skin as she pulls him tighter to her, wrapping her legs around his waist, holding him in place. She's eager and drunk and insanely turned on, and he shudders against her body when Clarke moves to untuck his shirt from his jeans.

Eventually, Bellamy softens his kisses, pulling away. "Your boyfriend could walk in at any minute," he says, tapping her pale knee. 

She's breathing hard and her face feels flushed, but she says nothing at the mention of Finn, watching Bellamy remove his hands from her body, his palms covered in glitter. "Did you roll around in this stuff?" He asks with a smile, wiping his hands on his jeans. 

Clarke blushes. "Oops."

Bellamy taps her knee again, beginning to pull away from her completely. Clarke grabs his elbow, a smirk curling on her lips.

"Take me upstairs."

He raises an eyebrow at her, as if she's joking. But she hops off the counter and turns on her heel to leave, and before he realizes, he's following her up the dark stairs like a lost puppy. She leads him to Harper's room, locking the door behind her, darkness swallowing her whole, the night light in the corner doing little to nothing.

"Are you sure?" His raspy voice reaches out to her, and she follows it, her fingers finding their way to the collar of his jacket. With careful hands, she pushes it off his broad shoulders, and he allows it to fall to the ground. He helps her unbutton his shirt, joining his jacket on the floor.

Clarke's eyes adjust to the dark, allowing her to see him faintly, just enough to see the outlines of his muscles, and she pushes him to the bed until he sits down. He reaches up, trying to grab her hips to pull her down. She swats his hands away and she sways slightly from her alcoholic imbalance, and he chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

The closed door drowns out the noise from the party, and the darkness intensifies their actions. She can swear he can hear how fast her heart is beating as she grabs the straps of her dress, holding her breath as she pulls it up and over her head. Bellamy exhales loudly, and she's sure he notices her lacy bra and matching panties.

"Well?" She teases, shocking herself with how sensual she sounds. "Are you gonna fuck me?"

"That depends," his gravelly voice returns, and she sees in the shadows from the light in the corner of the room the edges of his lips turn upwards into a smirk. "Will you let me?"

She steps closer, her bare knee knocking his. Bellamy reaches out to grab it, his long fingers curling around the bone. "What do you want to do to me?"

He leans his head forward, resting it on Clarke's stomach. He exhales as her hands go to his hair, tangling her fingers at the roots. "You  _know_ what I want to do to you."

She smiles. "Do I?" She moves to straddle him, Bellamy's hands moving to her sides, holding her close. "You've never told me before."

"There's a reason why I never told you," he's murmuring now, his eyes closed. Clarke know's who he's talking about, but chooses to ignore his statement as a hand snakes up her back, holding her in place by the back of her neck.

"Tell me now."

His mouth is on hers, and it's as if she's lit on fire. He's kissing her like he's starving for her, and it's dirty and hot and needy and she's completely relishing in it.

She melts into him as his kiss gets rougher, letting him have his way with her. Her head is swimming and her heart is hammering erratically as a hand pulls on the elastic strap of her panties impatiently. 

"Oh my god," Clarke breathes into the dark when his lips move to suck harshly on her neck, and she throws her head back, giving him more skin to mark. He bites her collarbone lightly, and she whimpers, her nails digging into his broad shoulders.

"So fucking beautiful," Bellamy murmurs against her skin as a few fingers unhook her bra, and Clarke almost faints at how low and velvety his voice is. He removes it from her body, tossing it to the floor. He makes quick work of her panties, leaving her a naked mess, his hands never pausing on their trek to memorize every inch of her body.

"Oh my  _god_." She's breathless as she hugs him to her, the warmth of his skin setting her nerve endings ablaze. 

He allows her to undo his pants, maneuvering himself to wiggle out of them while keeping Clarke on his lap. He finds it hard to focus with her lips at his neck, and she's pushing him onto his back, hovering her naked body over his.

"Show me," she whispers, and his hand goes to her cheek, his thumb caressing the bone, a strangely intimate moment in their drunken state. "Do whatever you want with me, Bellamy."

The hand on her cheek pulls her down to him, and his kiss is filled with more passion than she ever received from him before. A shiver ran through her body, raising goosebumps on her skin as he rolls them over. Clarke closes her eyes as Bellamy grabs her hands, guiding them above her head. One hand wraps around both of her wrists, holding her in place, and she shivers again when he drags his other fingers down her throat, the valley of her breasts, the dip in her abdomen. 

Her body jolts when his hand disappears between her thighs, his palm putting pressure against her clit. Her breath is shaky as he kisses her, his grip on her wrists tightening when she tries to get lose.

"Oh my god," she lets out in a moan as if they're the only three words she knows, burying her face in her arm as he thrusts a finger into her, and then two. Instantly, her hips rock in time with his hand, coaxing whines and whimpers from her with just the come hither motion of his fingers. " _Shit!"_ She jolts again, his long fingers grazing her g-spot.

"Relax," he whispers as his fingers still, his voice husky, lowering his mouth to her ear. It was the hottest thing she's ever heard him say. "I got you."

He eventually feels her body relax under his hands and begins to move his fingers again. Her body gyrates against his hand, and soon she's begging for him.

"Please- fuck,  _please,_ Bellamy," she begs, his fingers speeding up as she feels the coil in her stomach begin to tighten even more. But he removes his fingers, and her hips are chasing him desperately.

A hand presses down on her hip, pushing her against the bed, and a smirk is on his lips. "Easy, Princess."

"I'm on the pill. Please tell me you're clean," Clarke breathes as she draws him closer by his shoulders, spreading her legs so he can settle between them. He laughs and nods, hooking one of her legs around his waist and positioning himself.

And when he pushes into her, it's positively euphoric.

"Holy shit," Bellamy breathes, dropping her forehead to her collarbone. Clarke brings her other leg up, hooking her feet together by the small of his back. Her arms circle around his neck, drawing his mouth up to kiss her again.

He begins to rock against her, and her mouth falls from him, thankful for the party outside to drown her moans from the rest of the house. 

Bellamy has a bruising grip on her hip, his thumb digging into the bone. His other hand is on her clit, rubbing short, fast circles, and it's making her lose her mind. 

This was by far the best sex she ever had. Finn couldn't do half she stuff Bellamy could, and he nearly wasn't as vocal.

"You fucking drive me crazy. Ever since I saw you," Bellamy begins, groaning as he glances down to watch where the two of them meet. "I thought you were so fucking hot."

Clarke wants to respond, wants to mention something about hot his broad shoulders or clenched jaw always got her, but she can't formulate words. Instead, she lets out another moan, raking her nails down his back.

Bellamy hisses. "And that cheerleader uniform?" He continues, gripping her knee, speeding up his thrusts when she starts shaking beneath him. "Turns me on so fucking much. Makes me think the dirtiest fucking thoughts about you."

"Bell _amy_ ," she whines, her voice jumping as her orgasm finally takes over. She's practically screaming, and he has to clamp a hand over her mouth to silence her, his hips snapping back and forth as his eyes bore into hers. 

She's still shaking when he pulls out, his hand vigorously pumping his cock above her stomach. " _Fuck,_ Clarke."

Clarke would never in her life ever let Finn come on her body, but there's something dirty and erotic when Bellamy does it. And shit, she's already so obsessed with him she could scream.

Bellamy leaves the bed momentarily to get a rag from the connected bathroom, bringing it back to clean Clarke up. He's softer with her now, smiling at her when she catches his eye.

"Well I didn't think this would happen," Bellamy chuckled as he reached for his jeans and boxers, taking his sweet time watching Clarke redress. 

"I did," she said simply, slipping the dress over her head, not bothering with the undergarments on Harper's floor. She'll deal with that later. 

"Seriously?" He laughs, slipping his shirt back on, circling his arm around Clarke's waist when she steps forward to button it. 

She shrugs. "I can't control myself around things I want when I'm drunk."

"Mmm, you want me?" Bellamy says with his signature smirk, allowing Clarke to wrap her arms around his neck. She pulls him down to her height, slotting her lips hotly against his. 

She bites his bottom lip, and he feels a bolt of pleasure course through him, his hands disappearing under her dress. Clarke giggles when his hands grab her ass, pushing her against him.

"You're dangerous to be around too long, Princess," Bellamy says, and Clarke smiles coyly as she smoothes the collar of his shirt. 

And that's when it started.

* * *

Since the Halloween party, Bellamy and Clarke couldn't keep their hands off of each other. It was now January, and their secret fling was still fully alive.

"Oh my fucking  _god,"_ Clarke breathes when she slides off him, falling onto her stomach on her bed next to him. They're both slick with sweat, and Bellamy runs his hand through his matted curls, pushing his hair back as he tries to even his breathing. 

"You're amazing, Princess," he tells her, lazily reaching a hand over to slap her ass. She practically purrs, moving to cuddle into his side. Clarke shivers when Bellamy's hand wraps around her knee, hitching her leg around his waist. 

Although their project ended last month, Clarke always came up with reasons to bring Bellamy around, both in public and in private. She would eat lunch with him, and sit next to him in sociology, and he would even walk her to cheer practice after school, much to Finn's suspicion. In private, they couldn't take their hands off of each other. Whether it be in a bed, or on the couch, or even that one time on the marble counter in Clarke's kitchen, they couldn't ever get enough of each other. They were obsessed, and Clarke couldn't find anything wrong with that.

"What's your story today?" Bellamy asks with an easy smile, bringing Clarke's hand up to kiss it. Clarke rests her head on his shoulder, allowing him to hold her hand.

"I'm having dinner with a childhood friend," Clarke answers, closing her eyes when Bellamy begins to run his fingers through her hair. "Which technically is half true. You made me dinner."

They were speaking of Finn. He's become increasingly uneasy about Bellamy hanging around ever since August, and now that there was actually a reason for suspicion, they had to be careful. She's still shaken from the time Clarke's mother let Finn inside when her and Bellamy were fucking upstairs, and she had about ten seconds to get dressed and get him out of her room before Finn walked in.

Bellamy brushes through her hair as he lifts his head to look out the bay window adjacent from her bed, watching the snow slowly collect on the frosted window. Although it was January, it was the first snowfall of the season, and there's no way he'd rather spend it than staying in bed with Clarke, cuddled under her down comforter, teasing her by chasing her calves with his cold feet.

His gaze flits back to Clarke, her blonde hair scattered across his arm and shoulder. Her blue eyes were closed and her pale pink lips were set in their natural pout. Her pale skin was flawless, a blemish not in sight. Her marble arm thrown over his stomach was the perfect contrast to his brown skin. She looked like an angel. His own personal angel.

"Why did you never talk to me?" Clarke asks out of the blue, picking her head up from his chest, his eyes finding hers. "If you liked me since I was a freshman, why didn't you ever say anything?"

Bellamy laughs incredulously. "What, say that I wanted to fuck my sister's best friend?" He rubs his hand over his face. "Not exactly something I wanted to tackle at that point."

"You know," she starts in a gentle voice, drawing small hearts on his chest with her pointer finger, drawing goosebumps. "I was single then."

Silence sets in between the two as his chest deflates under her hands from his long exhale. They rarely brought up Finn, especially after they just had sex.

Bellamy doesn't say anything. Instead, he rubs the small of her back with his palm, the strokes of his hand constant and slow. 

"What time is it?" Clarke breathes, closing her eyes again. Between school and cheerleading and sneaking around with Bellamy, she was physically drained.

She feels Bellamy strain to glance at the clock on her nightstand. "It's almost nine," he laughs. "We're like sixty years old, in bed by nine."

Clarke snuggles closer, and the hand on her back goes to the back of her head, holding her comfortingly as the other arm circles around her waist. "You're hot for a sixty year old."

Bellamy laughs, kissing her forehead. 

He wanted to say more, but when he finally worked up the courage, she's already asleep.


	3. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually associated with joy, happiness, intellect, and energy.

"So I was thinking we could go see a movie Thursday night after you cheer at that basketball game. I haven't seen you in awhile and it'll be nice to go on a date again."

Clarke was focused on the pencil she was balancing between her fingers in front of her, bouncing it up and down, making it look as if the wood was bending.

"Clarke?"

She finally came to, turning to her side. Finn was eyeing her expectantly, and she shrugged with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

His shoulders slump as his eyes narrow. "Of course you weren't."

Clarke hated to admit it, but at this point, she probably deserved the award for worst girlfriend ever. Not only was she stringing Finn along, she also has been cheating on him regularly since October.

It was now February, and she didn't even spend Valentine's Day weekend with Finn. She came up with some lame excuse about having to drive to Maryland to see her distant family, when in reality, Bellamy surprised her to a day trip to Washington DC for heart-shaped macaroons and a picnic dinner on the National Mall. 

She hated lying. She always had. Clarke had a zero tolerance policy when it came to lies, and here she was, breaking her own rules, sneaking behind Finn's back with some brooding senior.

Clarke lifts her eyes from their lunch table, flitting to where Bellamy usually sat, under the big oak tree in the center of the quad. 

He sat with his back resting on the tree trunk, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His gray henley was rolled at the sleeves, exposing his tanned forearms to the world, his worn leather jacket tossed beside him, clearly not bothered by the crisp February air. His curly hair was unruly, and his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Clarke once made a comment about how much she liked them, and from then on he always seemed to wear them. She was too far to see what he was working on, but his face was scrunched in focus as he scribbled on his notebook.

"Sure," she said suddenly to Finn, agreeing to whatever he was bugging her about. "I gotta go."

Although Finn and Octavia called after her, she gathered her things and walked towards the tree. She ignored the gazes of the kids surrounding Bellamy, choosing to smooth her cheerleading skirt under her pea coat before plopping down next to him on the grass. He raises an eyebrow and turns to her in bewilderment. 

"What are you doing?"

"Sitting with you. We're just friends, right?" She gave him a knowing smile. "There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Bellamy looked past her, and she knew his eyes went to Finn, who was most likely staring right back. "No," he says, bringing his attention back to Clarke. "I guess not."

She flips her hair over her shoulder. "What are you working on?" She asks, leaning in and tilting her head to see what he's writing. He turns her notebook to her, allowing it to pick it up and read it.

"An essay," he tells her, running his hand through his hair. She learnt it was a nervous habit. "It's on Wuthering Heights. Totally basic, but it's an assigned reading."

Clarke smiles fondly as she looks over his messy handwriting. Bellamy was extremely talented in English, especially literature, and she felt a weird sense of pride at his academic achievements in the field.

"Yellow's your color," Bellamy says suddenly, pointing the eraser of his pencil at her. She looks down at her pale yellow jacket, hiding her smile.

"Well thank you," she says, handing back his notebook. He takes it, his hand purposefully grazing hers, and she blushes. 

Clarke hasn't felt this good in a long, long time. Bellamy never missed a chance to compliment her. He was never rude, or mean, or unkind. He treated her how her mother always taught her she should be treated, and he made her feel, well...  _sexy._ He cherished her, both in public and in private. Something she never once got from Finn.

She shifted her body to hide Bellamy from Finn, reaching out to grab his hand by the side of his leg, shielding it from the people surrounding them. He rubs the top of her hand with his thumb as he continues to write with his other, acting as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

"Have you given any more thought to college?" She finds herself asking, and he sighs, his eyebrows scrunching together as he struggles to erase a word without the use of one of his hands. 

"I applied to the University of Virginia to be a part of their English program, but I dunno. They would have to give me a pretty hefty scholarship before my dad would even consider it," he says, focusing intently on his essay.

Clarke finds herself smiling. "You'd be close. That's only an hour from Richmond, you know."

Bellamy finally looks up from his papers, giving her a soft smile as he gently squeezes her hand. "That it is."

"Okay, scooch over. Give me some room."

Clarke's head snaps up, pulling her hand from Bellamy's, watching Raven walk up to the two of them. She gives Bellamy a tight-lipped smile as Clarke reaches out a hand to help her sit on the grass. 

"I figured if my girl and Banished Blake are friends, we should be too," she said shortly, her pony tail whipping through the air as she changes her attention from Clarke to Bellamy.

"Don't call him that, Raven," she says in defense, noticing the way Bellamy tensed next to her at Raven's words.

Raven rolls her eyes. "Oh, I'm kidding, Griffin. Don't get your cheer spanks in a twist." She finally gives Bellamy a real smile, reaching out to shake his shoulder gently. "I'm not some evil cliquey girl, I'm just known to have a bit of an attitude. A friend of Clarke is a friend of mine."

"Alright," Bellamy said with a hint of suspicion in his easy smile, and with good reason. He's been hanging around Clarke since August, and none of her friends even looked his way until today. 

"Anyways, I figured I'd enjoy my lunch over here more," Raven says, pulling her salad out of her bag. Bellamy shoots Clarke a confused look, and she gives him an apologetic smile. "All Finn was going on and on about is how he  _finally_ has a date with little miss future doctor on Thursday after she shakes her pom-poms at the game against Trikru High."

Clarke's eyebrows shoot up. "I- what?"

Raven stares at her. "Were you mentally absent the past thirty minutes?" She asks Clarke, throwing her pony tail over her shoulder. "You literally agreed to a date before you up and left to join old man Blake who, by the way, looks like he hasn't washed his hair in about four days in the most uncomfortably sexy way, and I'm not particularly liking it."

"I'm guessing this is your sense of humor?" Bellamy asks flatly, ignoring Clarke's 'don't listen to her, your hair is fine' advice.

Raven shoots him another tight smile. "Of course. I'm brattiest to people I like most," she smooths her pony tail, looking to Clarke. She nods her head, reluctantly agreeing. "I do it with love. You should be lucky, Blake 1.0. I like you, and clearly you're good friends with Clarke, who only allots herself to be friends with about six people at a time, so I'm guessing you're a pretty special guy."

This earns a laugh from Bellamy as he picks up his bottle of water to take a sip, and Clarke rolls her eyes at her best friend. Clarke was known for having the ability to read people, so she always kept her friend circle small. It was only a matter of time before Raven made a joke out of it.

"I mean, if she isn't giving it to golden boy anymore, I hope it's going  _somewhere._ "

Bellamy chokes on his water, quickly putting the cap back on the bottle. Clarke's eyes grow wide, stuttering to defend herself.

"Relax, Griffin. I'm joking," Raven says with an eye roll, taking a bite of her salad. "I know you're not cheating on Troy Bolton lite. Your vanilla-flavored morals are too high for that type of sin. Not to mention Octavia would serve your head on a platter at her father's next dinner party."

"Right." Clarke slides her glance to Bellamy, who's peeking at her from the corner of his eye, returning his pencil to paper to write. She was relieved he was so good at keeping his cool. 

She's in awe of how easy Bellamy takes Raven's dry humor blows, and they both breathe a sigh of relief when the bell for class rings.

"Saved by the bell," Raven says in a sing-song voice with an innocent smile, returning the lid to her now empty tupperware container, putting it back in her bag. Clarke helps her back up, and Raven gives a small wave before walking the opposite direction to her next class.

Bellamy picks up his backpack from the ground, slinging it over his broad shoulder, shoving his other hand in his pocket. He falls into step with Clarke he walks her to her biology lab. "Well that was something."

Clarke nods in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest. "Definitely something."

"You don't think she..." He trails off, lowering his voice when he notices people are watching. "You don't think she knows, do you?"

"There's no way she could know," Clarke reasons with him. "Other than the halloween party, we've been confined to my house. Unless she has cameras in my bedroom or shower, there's no way."

Bellamy laughs, nudging her shoulder with his. He liked how easy it was to be with her. Even when it's not romantic. It's just so easy to just be a friend. She was kind and warm and she made him feel good about himself. He hasn't felt this way in years, not since Octavia stopped talking to him.

"Do you maybe want to come over Friday night?" He asks, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe meet my dad?"

Clarke stops walking, making Bellamy turn and face her. A smile is on her lips. "Really?"

His grin is sheepish, repositioning the backpack strap on his shoulder. "Well, yeah. That's the only day he has off since he got his new job. We've been more or less dating since halloween, if you count me bringing you warmed up pizza in bed after sex. And I remember you saying something about how you would like that, so..."

She remembers as well. It was actually their first argument. She was pushing him, upset that they spent all their time at her house, and she hasn't once even been in his neighborhood. He shut down the conversation relatively quickly when he walked out on their dinner at some restaurant downtown, and he refused to bring it up again until now.

Clarke giggles, pushing his shoulder playfully as she begins to walk again, making him catch up with her. "Pizza in bed after sex was the best date ever, by the way."

* * *

Thursday's school day was finished, and so was the basketball game. Apparently, Clarke had a date with Finn, but she had to get Bellamy out of her system in the only way she knew how: grabbing him by the belt and dragging him out the back door of the gym to the closest utility closet.

"Oh my god," she whispers when Bellamy reached under her skirt to grab her thin underwear, shimmying them down her thighs. He pushed her against some shelf and hiked her leg high on his hip and pushed into her, and she watched his eyes close in bliss. 

"Y'know," he grunts quietly, one hand braced on her knee, the other on her waist, keeping her steady as he thrusts. "I always had a thing for you in this uniform." He chuckles.

Clarke wants to say something back, but her mind is fuzzy and all she can think about is how hard his muscles are under the thin, pale yellow fabric of his t-shirt that's she's holding on to desperately, his brown skin glowing. Instead, she moans, which prompts Bellamy to clamp a large hand over her mouth.

"Shh," he hums, and her eyes finally meets his as he fucks her. "We're still in school."

He must have hit some sex-in-school kink nerve, because she can't bite back her moan stifled by his hand.

Finally, he lets his hand slip from her pretty mouth, and she bites her lip, trying her hardest to keep quiet. The hand on her mouth travels to her pony tail, shoving his hand into her hair, raking the tie out, leaving it down. The yellow ribbon falls to the floor, and he grabs a handful of her blonde hair, yanking her head backwards. She lets out a soft cry as his lips find her neck, sucking harshly on her skin. Clarke's hands find the hem of the back of his shirt, traveling under and upwards, tracing the ridges in his back with her fingers, pressing into his skin when his thrusts get faster.

The hand in her hair guides her mouth back to his, and their kiss is sloppy and urgent and so full of desire. He shoves his hand in between them to her clit, and just a couple quick flicks back and forth have her unraveling. She's moaning into his mouth and she's digging her nails into his back, and that's enough to make him fall into his own state of bliss. 

When his breathing is finally even, he pulls out and sets her shaky leg back on the ground, keeping a hand on her waist to steady her as he reaches down to the ground with the other, picking up her underwear. "Here," he says simply, handing them to her, holding her arm as she hobbles on one foot to step back into the dainty lace.

"Please tell me I don't look like I just got wrecked." She looks up at him with those blue eyes, watery and glazed over from leftover want. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips are swollen, and her blonde locks are tangled. 

Bellamy gives her a half smile. "You don't look  _totally_ wrecked," he says, pulling up his pants from his knees, buckling his belt before reaching down to scoop up his leather jacket from the tile beneath them. "Just look you got fucked."

"I'm serious, Bell!" She says, shoving his shoulder. He laughs easy, grabbing her wrist, pulling her to him. She's pouting, but her arms wind around his toned waist, clasping her hands around her wrists behind his back.

"Let me come over tonight," he murmurs, the darkness of the closet making his voice unexplainably louder, nudging her nose with his. Her heart skips as she tilts her head back, welcoming his kiss. 

"You're lucky my mom has the night shift," she teases softly against his lips, pulling him closer to her by the collar of his jacket, deepening the kiss. Bellamy's hands shove under the tight cheerleading top, his fingers burning her pale skin. He backs her up against the shelf, and she giggles when his hands trap her against it. 

"We should go," she giggles, kissing his cheek. He forces a tortured noise through his teeth but he backs off, his thumb tapping her hip bone before dropping his hand completely from her. He's the first to slip out the door, and she follows five minutes after.

* * *

 

Bellamy rubs his shoulder as he walks the school halls on his way to physics. He spent the night at Clarke's last night, and he would never willingly pass up a chance to get her in bed, but he could only keep up with her enduranced libido for so long without feelings the effects afterwards.

"Why are you trying to be friends with her so badly?"

Bellamy's blood runs cold, not bothering to turn around and face the noise. He hasn't heard that voice in years.

"What, you spent years trying to talk to me, and now when  _I_ want to talk, you ignore me?" Octavia fell into step with him, having to fast walk to keep up with her brother's long strides.

"When I try to reach out to you, it's with good intentions," Bellamy tells her as he stares straight ahead, clenching his jaw. He was uncomfortable. "I highly doubt you're doing this to try to make up."

"It's annoying how you're all hung up on Clarke when she has a very nice  _boyfriend_. Don't ruin that for her, Bellamy. You're lucky it was Lincoln who saw you two sneak out of the gym last night. Wick or Raven wouldn't have been as forgiving."

Bellamy sighs, stopping in front of his classroom, finally turning to face his sister. She's grown since he last got a good look at her. "I'm not ruining anything for anyone. But I do know she doesn't love him. And I'm not making her do anything she doesn't want to do."

He makes a move to walk into his class, but Octavia grabs his arm, stopping him. "Whether we like it or not, I know you better than any lowlife in this school. You're my brother," she says, lowering her voice, making sure people wouldn't hear. "I know how you get when you fall for someone. Don't screw her over, Bellamy. And leave her alone. She may not love Finn, but she would be a wreck if he ever found out about you. If you want to be her friend, be her friend. Just stop getting in her pants."

With that, Octavia lets go of his arm and steps away, not looking back as she walks off with her back to him, running to catch up with Raven and Miller. 

Bellamy makes it through the rest of the day and locks himself in the library until Clarke hunts him down after cheerleading practice. It's not until they're in his car - she refuses to ride his motorcycle - driving to his house when she finally says something.

"You're awfully quiet," she notes, reaching to grab his hand from the gear shift, oddly out of place in the automatic car. 

He sighs, enclosing her fingers with his. Earlier, he made a plan to begin to distance himself from Clarke. Octavia was right. Clarke had a boyfriend, and if word would ever get out, people would be mad at  _her,_ not him. And she would lose Finn forever, whatever her feelings for Finn may be.

Bellamy ran his thumb over the top of her hand. Clearly, his plan wasn't working all too well.

He never really answers her, and the rest of their car ride is spent in silence. Clarke watches their journey out the window, the homes lined up parallel to the sidewalk getting smaller and more run-down as they venture closer and closer to the inner city of Richmond. She figured he didn't live in the nicest part of town, due to his multiple stories he's told her about his home life, but she never thought it would be this bad.

 _Maybe that's why he's quiet,_ she pondered, watching a group of kids run in the small front yard as they passed another home, laughing until they fell over on the dead grass. Maybe he wasn't quite ready for her to see this yet.

"We're here," Bellamy told her as he pulled into a driveway, and she noticed his bike was parked on the side of the house. It was one of the nicest homes on the street, but that wasn't really saying much.

"Come on," he cuts into her thoughts, reaching out to place a hand on her back, leading her to the house. 

The inside, however, was a lot nicer than she thought it would be. It seemed like a normal, everyday home. It wasn't anything on her house's scale, but it was quaint. The entryway and living room were tidy and neat, and the kitchen to the left was complimentary of the home. Bellamy takes Clarke's coat from her and puts it on the rack by the front door, and she's charmed by his manners.

"I guess he's not home."

Clarke turns to Bellamy, who's reading a piece of paper he picked up from the table in the entryway, presumably a not let by his dad. He sighs, putting it back down and turning back to Clarke. "Want me to make you anything?"

She smiles. "Warmed up pizza would be nice."

Bellamy laughs, fond at their memories as he follows her into the kitchen. "How about something else? I don't have any pizza, but I do make a mean chicken sandwich."

"Sounds good to me," says Clarke, hopping up to sit on the granite island in the center of the kitchen, a vase filled with beautiful yellow flowers sitting in the center. After telling Bellamy what she all wants, he goes to the fridge, pulling everything needed out. 

"We're so domestic," Clarke giggles as he hands her a plate with her sandwich, moving to stand in front of her as they eat. 

Bellamy swallows his bite before clearing his throat. "What do  _you_ plan on doing after high school?"

"Harvard," she answers instantly, and his eyebrows shoot up. "It has the best undergraduate medical school in the country, and I want nothing more than to become a doctor, so it just seems like a good fit."

"You're definitely capable of anything you set your mind to. I can definitely see you in Boston," he tells her as he takes another bite.

Clarke scrunches up her nose. "I dunno, those accents still get me."

"Are you gonna take your cah up to Baston? Maybe get some caffee on the way there?" Bellamy says in the best Bostonian accent he can muster, making Clarke laugh. God, he loved her laugh.

"You're ridiculous," she says, still laughing, placing the clean plate off to the side of the counter. "That's the worst Boston accent I ever heard."

He leans in close. "But you love it." He's grinning at her, his face just inches from hers. She knows it's innocent, but she can't help the blush that creeps up her neck and reaches her ears.

Bellamy pats her outer thigh and moves away from her, but Clarke grabs him by the waist, pulling him to her again.

"Clarke..." He trails off, but wedges his body between her legs nevertheless.

"Bellamy," she teases him in the same strained voice he used just a second ago, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she slinks her arms around his neck. His hands go tentatively to her waist. "You kissed me so many times before, what's different this time?"

His fingers tap on her hip bones above her cheerleading uniform. "Well, we're in my kitchen. Not exactly romantic," he gives as an excuse.

"Then take me to your room," she says with a smirk, pulling him closer.

He wanted to say no. He really did. He wanted to stick to the plan of distancing himself from her and giving her space. But she was infectious, and he was obsessed.

So it was no wonder she has him with his back against his closed bedroom door, his pants around his ankles and her cheerleading top somewhere on the floor, and Clarke on her knees.

"Oh  _god,"_ he lets out, his voice almost pained as Clarke takes him in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she pulls back. She kisses the head before blowing a cool breath onto it, and Bellamy shudders, tightening the grip in her hair.

"No teasing," he says firmly as he stares down at her, but his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are hazy.

"Demanding, are we?" Clarke says with a smile as she places a hand at the base of his cock, licking the length of his shaft, from base to tip. Bellamy shudders again, throwing his head back against the door, a soft  _thud_ echoing through the room.

"You're killing me, Princess."

There's something about the way he says it that makes a rush of pleasure and adrenaline shoot through her. It was the breathy voice he used when he called her princess, or the way he gently guided her mouth back to him without any inhibitions. He practically feels the way her mouth stretches around him, and his free hand presses into the door behind him, needing something to anchor him.

Clarke worked on her gag reflex in her time of being with Finn, and she was mentally smug as she relaxed herself enough to take all of Bellamy's cock in her mouth, listening to the strained, broken moan come from the boy above her. 

"Holy shit." He's breathless as the hand in her hair unconsciously pushes her back down when she pulls back. She allows him to control her pace, and before long he's at his breaking point.

"Fuck, okay stop," he says suddenly, pulling her up to her feet by the arm. Clarke pouts, and he wipes the stray tear on her cheek from exertion. "If you keep doing that I'm going to come."

She smiles coyly. "That was the plan."

He pulls her in to kiss her, his lips slotting over hers desperately. She grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head as he steps out of his pants, leaving them in a pile at the door as she pulls him to his bed. 

His hands are frantic under her skirt, his fingers curling around the waistband of both her undershorts and panties, shimmying them down her thighs as quickly as he could. Clarke pushes him down to his bed, and he sits on the edge, pulling her on to his lap, not even bothering with her skirt as she sinks down on him, and it's euphoric for both.

"Holy shit," she moans, her head falling back, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

She's beautiful. She's always been beautiful in his eyes, ever since he saw her when she was thirteen, when his mom was picking Octavia up from her old house, the one she had before she moved into the huge estate. He was barely a young teenager then, but he knew that blonde hair and that pale skin and those blue eyes would be the most stunning combination he'd ever see in his life.

He never thought they'd be here, in his bedroom, with Clarke riding him with closed eyes and loose lips, but here they were.

"You're so hot," he pants against her neck where he's kissing her, one hand bruising her thigh while the other rested on her hip, keeping her in time with his fast pace. He was thrusting up into her, and her knees were keeping her balance on the bed.

"Oh my god." She sounds like she's crying when he sucks on her collarbone, her arms wrapping around his back. She holds him to her as close as she can, her hips taking on a mind of their own as she rocks in time with his thrusts. "Bellamy, I-"

He cuts her off by changing his angle slightly, allowing him to get deeper, eliciting a cry from Clarke. She can't contain her moans as he leans back, shoving a hand between their bodies, mercilessly rubbing her clit with the pads of his fingertips.

"Come on," he lets slip out in a groan, his fingers moving faster, knowing he was nearing his edge, trying to get her there faster.

Clarke falls forward, her sweaty forehead resting on his hot shoulder, unable to hold back her whimpers. Her hands are shaky as they grip his back, the muscles shifting under her fingers every time he moves his arms.

She buries her face in his neck as she comes, and she's shuddering as he holds her to him, his fingers slowing on her clit but his hips keeping a steady pace.

Clarke rolls her hips, and shortly after he's coming undone. He holds her tight and still as he comes, and his moan is raw and strained as he comes.

Bellamy falls backwards onto his bed, pulling Clarke with him. She slips off of him, not moving from her position, her chest pressed against his, her head resting on his shoulder.

"That was something," she breathes, her breath hot against Bellamy's neck.

He's silent, his fingers trailing up and down her spine, ignoring the bra clasp interrupting a smooth path.

They stay like that peacefully for quite some time, and he's sure she's falling asleep. "I should take you home," he murmurs in her ear, his hands flattening on her back, stilling.

"What?" She asks, sitting up, looking at the clock hanging on the wall. "It's only five."

"I know, but..." He can't find the words, but she knows him too well. She moves off of him completely, sitting next to him as she narrows her eyes. 

"What's your issue today?" She asks him, watching him scoot to the edge of the bed before getting up and walking across his small room to retrieve his underwear and pants, slipping them back on. "You've barely spoke. And even when we fucked, you barely said anything. Which is unusual, because you're pretty damn vocal."

Bellamy's cheeks are on fire as he finally looks up at her. Her hair is a mess, tousled perfectly by sex. Her face is flushed and her lips are swollen from his kisses. One of the straps of her yellow bra is off her shoulder, grazing her arm.

"Octavia spoke with me today," he told her, dropping his eyes from her contact. "She wants us to stop."

"Octavia _knows_?" He could hear the disbelief in her voice. "I thought she'd be the last one who would figure it out."

"I think she's right," he says quickly, getting it all out before he chickened out.

Bellamy peeks up at her, and she's staring at him, her gaze strong, confusion written all over her.

"So, what?" She asks, throwing a hand up in the air. "Your sister, who you haven't talked to for  _years,_ I might add, says we need to stop, so that's it?"

He sighs. "You have a boyfriend, Clarke," he says, reminding her. Clarke's cheeks burn at the mention of Finn. "Don't you think this is wrong?"

"I think I'm old enough to figure out what's right and what's wrong for me." But she drops her gaze, and he knows he made a point. She's a good person. It may have taken some time, but Octavia made him realize that she's better than this. So, so much better.

"So that's it then," she says flatly, getting up, fetching her cheerleading top, shoving it over her head. "We're just done then?"

He swallows. "We're still friends."

She moves to the door, throwing it open. "Sure. Whatever you want, Bellamy."

"Clarke!" He calls after her, following her through the house. "Wait!"

He catches up to her outside, where she's waiting by his car, her coat between her crossed arms, shivering. 

"I would walk home but I don't feel safe," she tells him, clenching her teeth to stop them from chattering in the cold.

Bellamy puts his hand on her arm, and she leans into it. "You're freezing. Put your coat on, please," he tells her softly, moving in to kiss the top of her head. She shakes under him, but he has a bad feeling it's not just from the cold.

She doesn't say a word on the ride to her house, despite his multiple attempts to hold a conversation. He knew she wouldn't like it, but he didn't think it would end up this badly. 

He finally pulls into her driveway, and neither of them move for a moment. Her arms a frozen in their position, crossed protectively over her chest, facing the passenger side window. 

"Clarke, listen to me-" he tries to say, but she turns her head in his direction, and his heart is in his throat.

"You know," she starts, her voice shaky as a tear falls from her watery eyes. "I was going to tell you I loved you tonight."

Before he could respond, she was out of his car, wiping at her tears, hurrying to the front door.

And that's how she broke Bellamy Blake's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for Raven's new-found attitude and making her a bit out of character. I was watching Glee at the same time I wrote this chapter, and Santana's dry humor was calling out to me for Raven Reyes.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	4. Red pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Associated with energy, war, danger, strength, power and determination as well as passion, desire, and love.

Bellamy wasn't taking it well, to say the least.

The first few weeks were easier. Clarke avoided him as much as possible, and he saw little of her and her friends. She moved seats in their class together to the opposite side of the room. Her whole group of friends was missing from their usual lunch table, and they never once stepped foot into Dropship. He figured she must have come up with a good enough reason to get them all to avoid him.

Octavia was the first to actually approach him, in late March. She didn't say much or even look at him. Just a small "thank you" as she passed him in the hallway. 

It was when April struck when Bellamy began to seriously regret his past decisions.

There she was, sitting in her usual seat in sociology. Since they became friends, she moved, opting to sit in front of him. Bellamy swallowed, walking into class with his head down. She didn't say a word as he passed, and he didn't allow himself to look up until he was seated safely behind her.

He missed her. She seemed to had gotten some sun, because her usually pale skin was slightly sun-kissed. Her hair was down in its natural waves, cascading down her back, reaching just below the edge of her shoulder blades. Her red shirt was completely open-backed, exposing to him the curve of her spine. His eyes couldn't help but travel south, and his stomach dropped when he saw four tiny bruises, clearly from fingertips, on her lower back. They weren't from him.

Finn Collins walks in just as the bell rings, and Bellamy watches Clarke turn to him, her face lighting up. He feels physically sick as he slinks in the room, dropping his backpack by the seat next to Clarke. He closes his eyes and wills himself to breathe, praying to whatever higher power there was to get him through this next hour without going insane.

He must have done it because the bell is ringing and students are gathering their belongings before heading to their next class. Finn bolts, giving some excuse about football offseason practice, kissing Clarke quickly on the cheek before leaving. Bellamy means to go slow packing up his things, but Clarke seems to have the same idea, moving even slower, if possible.

With a sigh, she stands up, hiking her bag over her shoulder. 

"Wait, Clarke." He's said the words before he could stop himself.

She halts, her thin fingers fidgeting with the light coat slung her arm. She turns hesitantly, looking up at him with an unreadable expression.

"You don't talk to me for a month and a half and now you want to talk?"

He saw that coming, honestly. He was the one who ended things with her, and clearly, she didn't think he deserved the opportunity to try and make it right with her. 

"I just want us to be civil," Bellamy says, ignoring the students slowly pouring into the room for their next class. 

She rolls her blue eyes. "Being civil with me would mean being civil to Finn, which clearly, you weren't, considering how many times you slept with me over the past six months."

Anger flared in his chest, and he shot her a confused expression. "What? You can't blame me for something we  _both_ did, Clarke. You're just as guilty as I am."

Clarke's eyes cut to the door of the classroom, more students entering. "I have to go to calculus," she says shortly, her gaze returning to him, an eyebrow arched in annoyance. "I'll see you around."

She turns her body to move past him in the aisle of desks, and she leaves.

A week goes by, and although he may no longer be friends with Clarke, Raven Reyes seems to not mind.

"I'm taking you to a party on Friday, Blake," Raven says as she sits down in the empty seat beside Bellamy in the library during their free period. He puts his novel assigned by his English teacher down, turning to her.

"As a date?" He gives her a bemused look.

"In your dreams, Bellboy," she says with a smile, her red lipstick bright. "You have a blatant stamp across your forehead reading "if found, return to Clarke Griffin." Ain't no way I'm touching that, even though the two of you are on the outs for some mysterious reason that neither are willing to disclose to me. Honestly, I'm hurt."

Bellamy smiles, but it's forced and he hopes she can't notice. As far as he knew, only Octavia and Lincoln knew about what he and Clarke once were. If Raven thought that they were just friends going through a rough patch, he wanted to keep it that way. "We just... saw some things differently," he says, choosing his words carefully.

"Yeah, yeah," she waves a hand in the air as if she's trying to get rid of a stench. "Anyways, you better look hotter than you usually do. It'll be fun."

Bellamy shakes his head as he chuckles. "I don't know..."

"I know Octavia will be there," Raven pipes up, a grin plastered on her face. That got him listening, just like she knew it would. "She seems to not have the cold-blooded killer mood about you anymore, so maybe you two could finally begin to fix things."

He eyes her warily. "Ah, it'll take more than a few shots to get us to talk."

"Really?" Her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, tilting her head. "I saw you two talk in the hall a while ago."

Bellamy groans inwardly. Of course, she saw them. Why would his life ever be easy for a change?

"That was about something personal." He hopes she won't read too much into it. "It was nothing."

She shrugs. "Well okay then," she says, gathering her books, standing up. "I gotta meet Wick, but I'll pick you up at nine on Friday. Don't fight me on it, Blake. You're coming."

"Deal," he says, laughing as she ruffles his already unruly hair before trotting off.

* * *

"You've got to be fucking  _kidding_ me, Reyes." 

"I thought you might want to give it a shot?" Raven says innocently, shrugging her shoulders, turning to give him a sheepish smile from the driver's seat. 

Her car was in the street in front of Clarke's house, where a party seemed to already be in full swing inside.

Bellamy was already shaking his head. "No. No way. She won't want me here."

"Come on, Bellhop!" Raven says encouragingly, grabbing her purse and exiting the car. He follows her but continues to fight her.

"Raven, I can't," he tells her, tracing her steps to the door. "She'll be pissed. I'll get upset, and it won't be a good time for anyone. Why didn't you even tell me it was going to be Clarke's house?" 

"Bellamy!" She yells, throwing open the door, the smell of alcohol and the sound of loud music engulfing both of them. "At least try!" 

He scrubs his face with the palm of his hand as he enters the home. He had a feeling he'd regret this.

He follows Raven through the living room and into the kitchen he came to know so well, and a pang of something unrecognizable went off in his chest. He was nostalgic. 

Bellamy bends down to talk over the music. "Where's Wick?" 

"He's with his parents in DC." Raven has to yell to be heard as she pours the two of them mixed drinks. They cheer, and the liquid burns his throat while she makes a face. Of course Raven drinks everclear. 

Something catches Raven's attention over his shoulder in the living room, and she begins to scoot past him. "I see O," she tells him, looking back up at him. "I'll talk to her. If she's in a good mood, I'll tell you. You don't have to talk to Clarke, but it would be nice if you talked to your sister. 

He clenches his jaw at her statement, watching her walk off. He twirled his red cup in his hand, glancing down at the liquid. He couldn't even remember the last time they laughed together. How sad was that? He couldn't think of when he last made his own sister laugh. 

Bellamy aimlessly walks into the living room, trying to be discreet. Raven, and maybe even Octavia, was Switzerland in their situation, but he was sure if he saw anyone else, they would alert Clarke. 

"Bellamy, right?"

He turns to his left, a girl with curly hair pulled into a messy ponytail approaching him. She has an easy smile, her eyes friendly.

"Yeah," he nods at her. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The girl laughs, and he likes the sound of it. "I sit across the room from you in statistics."

His mind clicks. "Oh! Gina. I'm sorry, I've just been kind of distracted lately." He takes a sip of his drink, and she follows suit with her own. "Do you know Clarke?" He asks, wondering why a senior was at her party.

"I know Miller," she said, smiling again, the corner of her brown eyes crinkling her tan skin. "He invited me. I just haven't found him yet."

"Well I hope I can be sufficient company until you find him," he laughs, and it surprises him. He never really found it easy to talk to anyone, and this feeling was something similar to what he felt around Clarke when they first became friends.

"You're doing a good job," Gina teases him, laughing with him.

They talk some more, and he finds out she's on the school track team and in the mythology club. She has a little sister, just like him, and her parents are both lawyers. She has a dog named Pepper and she works at the local mall to save up for Stanford, where she's going to end up next fall. Her eyes light up when she talks about her interests, and he finds in intriguing. She was friendly, and he liked it.

Eventually, Gina finds Miller in the crowd, and she gives Bellamy her number with a smile before joining her friend. 

Bellamy puts his phone back in his pocket, still glowing from his conversation with Gina. She was a sweet girl. She was genuine and fascinating. If only he found her three years sooner; they would have been great friends. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Finn in front of the TV, playing beer pong with Murphy. Harper and Lincoln are cheering them on, but there's no sign of Clarke. He decides to do a lap, and when he comes up short of a blonde, he's confused. Why would the hostess skip her own party?

Going against his better judgment, he heads towards the stairs, praying to whatever higher being there is that she isn't upstairs fucking some other guy. 

It's much quieter, and he heads down the familiar hall that ends with her room. He taps lightly on the door. No response.

He leans in, pressing his ear against the door to cancel out the noise from downstairs. He had a feeling she was in there. He didn't know how, but he just knew. He knocks again, and still, he got nothing. 

Once more, he tried.

"It's occupied!" He finally hears back, but her voice breaks slightly and it's hoarse.

Hesitantly, he grabs the doorknob, turning it slowly. He opens the door, and he sees Clarke, lying in bed with her back turned to him. She's buried under the covers, her blonde hair splayed out around her head. 

She moves to sit up and face the door harshly. "What part of occupied do you-?"

Bellamy closes the door when she realizes it's him. Her blue eyes turn to ice as they narrow.

"What are you doing here?" 

"Raven invited me, actually." He shoves his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do. "She's a great friend."

"Yeah, I know," she sniffs, wiping at her eyes. "She's  _my_ friend."

Clarke lays back down, facing away from him, pulling the covers to her chin.

"What's wrong?" He asks cautiously, crossing the room. He sits on the other side of her bed tentatively, hoping she wouldn't bite his head off. Instead, he is met with silence. Sniffles and silence.

"Clarke," he tries again, his hand reaching out to her shoulder, but pulling it back as an afterthought. "You can still talk to me."

"It's nothing." At least that's what he thinks he hears her say because she's buried so far under her blankets, her voice is muffled.

"I know you, Princess," he says gently. "You don't cry over nothing."

It seems like forever goes by, but slowly, Clarke rolls over to face him, her eyes red, mascara staining her cheeks. She could never resist his nickname for her, and that might have been why he used it. 

"Finn cheated on me."

He's pretty sure the color drains from his face because Clarke is looking at him with a hint of concern. His heart goes out to her, and before he could say anything, she's already doing damage control. 

"I mean, come on," she laughs morbidly, wiping at the stinging tears falling from her eyes. "I've been cheating on him since October, I don't have the right to be upset."

Bellamy moves closer. "You still have the right to be upset. Just because you did something wrong doesn't give him a pass to do the same."

She turns her gaze to him again, and his heart begins to break for her. If he's being honest, he could care less for Finn. It's what Finn did to her, however, is why he was upset. 

"Do you think what we did was wrong?" She asks in a quiet voice. 

She gnaws on her bottom lip as they sit in silence, watching him try to choose his words.

"I think what we did was right," he finally tells her gently. "The timing and the situation is what made it wrong."

She looks away from him, nodding at his words. 

"Does this make me a bad host?" She changes the subject, and he cracks a smile. "Being all cooped up in my room, having a pity party?"

Bellamy reaches out again, and this time, his hand pats her knee. "Someone great once said 'it's my party, and I'll cry if I want to.' I think those are some very wise words."

She laughs, even though it's short, and warmth envelops him. "Lesley Gore isn't someone  _that_ great." Her smile is coy. 

"But she made you smile!" He tells her, pointing at her. Her grin widens. "So that makes her pretty great."

Clarke rolls her eyes, re-situating herself under the covers. 

"Wanna come back downstairs?" He asks her, trying not to push her. "I can fend off Finn long enough for you to get a drink if you want."

She shakes her head. "I'm gonna stay here for the night," she tells him, reaching over to the nightstand to grab a tissue. He watches her dab her cheeks, slowly removing the stains her eye makeup left behind. "Stay with me?" She asks, looking back at him.

He stares at her but eventually, he nods, removing his jacket and shoes before slipping under the covers with her. Initially, he stuck to his respectful side of her bed, but she pipes up again.

"Can you hold me?" Her voice is shaky, and he knows she's crying again. "Please, Bellamy?"

It's been so long since he heard her say his name, and he melts. Slowly, he moves closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. She instantly molds her back into his chest, allowing him to align himself perfectly with her body. He uses his other hand to brush her hair with his fingers, kissing her shoulder when she's silent, shushing her when she's crying. 

"I don't regret it, you know," she tells him, and his mind is hazy, almost asleep. "What we did. I don't regret it."

"I don't either," he says gently, leaning down to kiss her neck this time. It was brief, but she sighed, leaning against him. She turns her head, and his lips go to her cheek. 

Clarke reaches up to touch her fingers to his chin, guiding his mouth to hers. Their kiss in tentative and hesitant, but he kisses her back nevertheless. The hand that was in her hair goes to her cheek, his thumb caressing her cheekbone as he drops his lips to her jaw, and then back to her neck. She exhales deeply, allowing him to push her shoulder down, laying her on her back. Her hands go to his hair, pulling on the black strands as his lips travel lower. 

Bellamy crawls on top of her, inching her shirt up her ribs, kissing her stomach. Her heart is racing and her breathing is picking up speed, and her skin erupts in flames wherever his lips touch. Even after all this time, he still sends shock waves through her body.

His mouth reaches the button of her jeans, and he raises his eyes to hers. She's already breathless, staring down at him, nodding at his silent question. Without missing a beat, his fingers go to the zipper, pulling them down her thighs, tossing them to the other side of the bed. He grips the lace of her panties and again he looks up at her. She reaches down and pulls them down herself, his amused expression lighting up his face.

"Stop questioning it," she tells him, leaning back against the pillows again, his lips going to her inner thighs.

As he kisses the sensitive skin, he knows he's doing this for her. Sure, he'd probably never pass up the chance to fuck her senseless, but she needed to relax. And it just felt  _right._

She gasps, pulling him from his thoughts, and he glances at her. Her eyes are closed, her face almost peaceful as he lifts a pale, smooth leg, placing it over his shoulder. His mouth barely grazes her core when she jolts.

"Shit," she giggles, her hands tightening in his hair when his eyes cut to hers, making sure she was okay. 

He delves in deeper, properly eating her out, wrapping his hands around her thighs to keep her from squirming. She's letting out breathy moans and whimpers above him, and the noises she's making is the most beautiful noise he's ever heard.

"Bellamy," she breathes, biting her lip, trying not to edge her hips away from him, allowing him to build her pleasure. "Oh, Bellamy..."

He flattens his tongue against her clit but opts for slow, sensual circles, rather than his usual frantic pace. It was different this time. It was slow and relaxing. Filled with love, almost. It wasn't as frenzied as it usually was, and he almost preferred this. 

She finished when he bit down lightly on her clit, and pleasure coursed through her nerves, all the way to her fingertips and toes as he kissed her core once more, bringing her back down to reality. 

"Here," Bellamy murmurs, sliding out of bed, getting a pair of sleep shorts and a tank from one of her drawers. Clarke changes, and he lays with her for awhile, breathing her in and playing with her hair. Her breathing evens out and she closes her eyes at his touch.

Eventually, she fell asleep. He kissed her cheek one last time before detangling himself from her, stepping back into his shoes and grabbing his jacket from the floor, turning the lights off as he exited.

Closing the door lightly behind him, he came face to face with Octavia.

"Oh," she said in surprise, holding two glasses of what looked like water, clearly one of them for Clarke. Her eyes then narrow, moving from him to the door, and then back to him. "What were you doing in Clarke's room?"

He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. He was exhausted and didn't want to do this right now. "She's just upset," he told her, motioning to the door with his hand. "I just came to check on her."

Octavia examines him, an eyebrow raising at the jacket in his hands and his disheveled hair. "Is that right?"

"I promise, O. Nothing happened. She's just asleep."

After a long pause, Octavia nods her head towards the stairs. "Just go."

She begins to push past him, but he grabs her arm lightly. "Do you think we'll be able to sit down anytime soon and have an actual conversation?"

Octavia thinks. "Maybe one day," she tells him genuinely, moving to enter Clarke's room. He hears his sister wake her up as he retreats, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks down the stairs.

"I think I'm gonna head out," he says when he finds Raven with Lincoln and Harper, not paying any attention to Finn. He was afraid that if he did, it wouldn't end smoothly.

"What?" Raven asks him, clearly more than hammered. "We just got here!"

"Raven, it's been almost two hours," he chuckles. Sure enough, she glances at her phone, and her eyes grow wide. While she's freaking out over how fast time flies when you're having fun, Bellamy swipes her keys, slipping them in his pocket, mentally reminding himself to text Clarke and let her know Raven needed to spend the night. Octavia woke her up; hopefully, she would receive his message and send Octavia to take her up to her room.

He slips outside unnoticed, and figures he should just walk home.

He could use the time to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I haven't been updating! I've been so busy with school, I didn't have the time to put as much work into this story as I wanted to. Hopefully you'll all forgive me :)


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